A Gift of Fire
by Moonraykir
Summary: Desperate to save a dying Kili, Tauriel expends the flame of her spirit to lend him strength. Will it be enough to save him a second time? And can she keep her half of the promise she made by accepting his runestone?
1. Chapter 1

Tauriel found she was screaming as she watched the orc captain drive the end of his mace into Kili's body. Perhaps she was saying his name; she wasn't sure. One detail alone held her attention: a single tear that ran down Kili's cheek as he watched her, seemingly oblivious to his own death-blow.

_Kili! I do—I do love you!_ she yearned to tell him as his eyes held hers. Then Bolg dropped him and their connection was broken.

A burst of grief, sharp and strong as anger, surged through her and she drew herself to her feet. Bolg already strode towards her, confident of a second kill. Tauriel flung herself at the orc, clinging to his neck as she swung her body round him to pull him off balance. She knew from her earlier failed grapple that she lacked the strength to overpower him, but she didn't mean to. She planted a foot on an outcropping of rock and propelled them both over the cliff's edge.

She let go of him as they fell, hoping to regain her balance and tumble to a safe landing. She felt her shoulder catch on stone and she skidded several body's lengths along the cliff face before she slammed to a stop, the breath crushed from her lungs. Gasping in pain, she tried to stand. Bolg likely survived the fall as well, and she must be up quickly to catch him off his guard. Pain blazed along her back and ribs, stabbed through her shoulder, and she fell back. _No_. She must stand, must avenge him. She tried once more, but her aching muscles refused to obey her. Tears of anger at her own helplessness pricked her eyes.

She thought she heard a scraping on the stone above her, then footsteps, heavy and slow and certain. He was coming for her. "No!" she sobbed. _This wasn't how we meant for it to end_, she thought. It all hurt so much. Perhaps death would be a welcome release. She closed her eyes, waiting to feel the brief bite of weapon's edge that would end her pain.

There was a crash, as if the whole mountain had come down, yet no death-blow came. For a moment, she thought she heard the sounds of fighting, and then pain flooded her perception. Her ears buzzed and she felt sick. Blurred shadows blocked her vision and the harsh, uneven sound of her own breathing seemed to fill her whole world. She lay still, thinking of nothing but dragging one breath after another. Slowly, it became easier to draw in air, and as her eyes cleared, she found herself staring up into a low, grey sky.

"Tauriel!" A clear voice called her name. Closer again, "Tauriel!"

Legolas stooped over her and laid his hands cautiously on her shoulders. "Are you hurt?" he asked urgently.

She shook her head. "Kili! He's—" she gasped, clutching at his arm to drag herself upright.

"Gently!" Legolas held her back. "You could have broken something."

Tauriel struggled against him. "I have to go to him!" Her brows were drawn, her eyes desperate.

Legolas relented and helped her up. "Legolas, he's up there!" She pointed to the cliff's edge above them, already straining towards it. She stumbled and caught herself by his arm.

"All right; I'll help you," he said. Supporting her, he lead her up a stairway cut into the rock. Hurt as she was, she was nearly dragging him behind her in her eagerness.

The climb seemed to take ages to Tauriel, with every muscle and sinew screaming as she pulled herself up each step. At last they reached the top, and the ledge where she and Kili had fought Bolg came into view. She cried out as she sighted Kili's fallen body, so small on the empty shelf of stone. She pulled away from Legolas and flew towards the dwarf with a last burst of strength that surprised even her.

Tauriel threw herself across him. "Kili!" she sobbed. His face was pale and he didn't seem to be breathing. She felt warm blood soaking her clothing and she pushed herself off him to look down at the wound in his chest. There was too much red to see anything clearly; she guessed at broken ribs, a pierced lung.

"No, my dear one," she whispered, placing a hand on the wound, as if she could somehow hold his life in, keep his spirit from ebbing away. She felt the last few flutters of a heartbeat. "Don't leave me," she gasped, nearly voiceless with grief. Tears poured down her cheeks.

_Please,_ she found herself pleading, her thoughts half a prayer, half stubborn will. _Don't take him from me. Take my strength, take my life and light. Let my _fae _strengthen his. Please; I love him._ She didn't know where the words came from. They seemed the only thing to say.

She bowed her head against his chest, bending upon him all her will and desire and love. His body was so cold and still beneath her. She felt the strength that she had held together for so long drain from her tired, aching limbs at last. It was all over now. Nothing mattered after this. She felt herself falling, drifting into darkness, lost. At the last, as if in a dream, she seemed to feel his fingers warm in hers, his hand grasping her own. Then even that sensation faded and all was oblivion.

* * *

><p>Note on the Sindarin:<p>

_fae_ is the Sindarin variant of the Quenya _fëa,_ meaning "soul, spirit."


	2. Chapter 2

Kili wandered through tunnels, passages, hallways in his dreams, surrounded by dead stone. Not the stone of his regained home, rooted and strong and alive, as surely as if the mountain had heart and blood. These were the halls of death.

He followed the twists and turns of dark hallways, getting no nearer his goal, as if he was following the loops of an endless knot. He was lost. Or was it that he had lost something? There had been light and warmth, they had shone for him alone—and he had lost them. The feeling that he had mislaid something important distressed him. He must find it! If only he could recall what he was looking for...

After what must have been days, years, lifetimes of treading the same empty maze, over and over and over, the passages seemed to clear and straighten. His sense of urgency lessened; he was getting somewhere at last. The darkness lightened, and he slept.

He woke to find a stone roof over his head, living stone carved by dwarvish hands. He breathed deeply, but that was a mistake: fire lanced along every rib and his gasp of pain became a cough. While he was struggling to catch his breath, a familiar face appeared above him.

"Kili! You're awake!" Bofur cried. His face was tired but joyful.

"Where am I?" Kili managed.

"In Erebor. We won the battle." Bofur's voice was cheerful. "Well, we might have had a little help."

_The battle._ Kili closed his eyes. That's right. He had seen his brother fall. The memory was a new pain, sharper than any of his bodily wounds. He could see Fili's lifeless face, his broken, bloodstained body. And there was another image, another body covered in red: bloodied clothing, streaming red hair...

"Tauriel!" he gasped and strained to rise, before the pain in his ribs overcame him again. He could not remember what had happened, but hadn't he seen them carrying her limp, blood-sodden body? "She— Where is she?" he nearly sobbed in his pain and sudden distress.

"Easy, laddie!" Bofur calmed him. "Your elf girl lives, if that's what ye mean."

Kili's tension eased as relief and hope flowed through him. He lay still, listening to his own ragged breathing as it slowed. Each breath was an agony, but the pain seemed unimportant now. _Thanks be to all the gods, even the elvish ones._ Tauriel had come for him: she loved him. But he had wanted to keep the promise he had made to return to her so he could hear it from her own lips.

"By all accounts, she saved your life again," Bofur continued in a moment. "With your recklessness, we'll have to keep her around." He chuckled.

Kili smiled a little, despite his discomfort. He had saved her once that day, as well. He would prove to her yet that he wouldn't always need rescuing; he could take care of her, too.

Just as his brother had once looked out for him. Tears swelled in his eyes, then fell. Fili's was a loss he could never replace. Life took even as it gave. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the mingled emotions of joy and grief that battled in his already aching chest. Soon he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"Tauriel." She stirred at the sound of her name. "Tauriel!"

She opened her eyes to see her prince bending over her.

"Blessed Valar, it's good to see your eyes again," he breathed.

Tauriel stirred restlessly. There had been something important she needed to do. She pushed herself upright, then froze halfway through the motion as the image of Kili's pale, lifeless face surfaced in her mind. "Kili! Is he—?" She stared at Legolas, willing him to tell her the truth quickly, no matter how devastating.

"The dwarf—Kili," he corrected himself, "is alive. Thanks to you." He smiled wistfully.

Tauriel sat up fully, swinging her legs to the floor to sit on the edge of the cot. Her heart was pounding. _He's alive. He's alive, and I love him. _She focused on the patterned rug on the floor as her heartbeat slowed to a more normal pace. That rug. Didn't it belong to the King? She glanced up to see the walls of the royal pavilion, the King's camp chair, a table set with wine and food.

"What am I doing here?" She looked up at Legolas. The King had been angry with her, and justly so, because she had defied him.

"You've been asleep for two days," he explained gently. "My father thought you would need his tent more than he would."

"But he banished me," she said, wondering.

Legolas smiled. "He said to tell you he was wrong; that it _was_ real. And that there would be a place for you in the Greenwood, should you wish to return."

Tauriel stared at him, dumbfounded. Thranduil was not known for his clemency.

"He was there when we lifted you from Kili's body. I believe he was quite moved."

Tauriel guessed he was not the only one. She wondered if his son's reaction had had anything to do with the King's change of heart.

She tried to stand, but her head swam. Legolas caught her as she stumbled and helped her sit again.

"Take it slowly," he said. "You spent much of your strength on him. We thought you had died, at first."

"Oh." So she had done it. She had lent the flame of her own spirit to him. She hadn't known it would work; it had been the only thing she could think to try. She realized now how mad she had been. But wasn't that what love was, a beautiful madness?

"How is he now?" she breathed.

"He is out of danger. He shouldn't have been alive when his kin found him. I made sure that one of our healers tended to him." Tauriel guessed that had cost Legolas more trouble than his words suggested.

"Thank you," she told him earnestly.

"Of course," he acknowledge with a bow of his head.

Tauriel flushed and looked away. She knew that he cared for her, and she felt almost guilty for receiving his help when it permitted her to love another.

"There is food here, when you want." He broke the silence. "Do you wish me to help you to the chair?"

She shook her head. "Thank you," she said again, the words seeming too small to express all she meant.

"I will be outside. If you need anything, call to the guard at the door. He can find me."

He nodded to her once more, and ducked through the curtained door.

Tauriel glanced down over herself. She was wearing a soft grey robe. Her own green one lay folded neatly beside her leather armor and her weapons on a traveling chest at the foot of the cot. She glanced back at the table, where bread, sliced venison, cheese, and some fruit had been arranged on a platter. Beside them on the table lay Kili's runestone.

She pushed herself cautiously to her feet, pausing once she was upright to let the shadows clear from her eyes. She felt lightheaded, like the time when she had taken a spider's venomed bite, long ago. She took a deep breath and placed one foot, then another. It was only a few paces to the table, but time seemed to slow as she concentrated all her effort on the simple movements of shifting her weight from one leg to another. She gripped the table's edge at last, closing her other hand round the runestone. Then she slid gracelessly into the chair.

When she had once more collected what strength she had, she looked down at the stone in her hands. The light gleamed and reflected in shifting colors beneath the surface of the stone, reminding her of the glowing curtains of light one could sometimes spot dancing in northern winter skies. She turned the stone, gazing down on the runes carved on the other side. What did they say?

"_Amralimë_," he had said to her. He had been right; she did know what that meant, what _he_ had meant. She smiled, remembering the earnestness of his eyes when he had parted from her on the shores of the lake. "It's a promise," he had said. A promise to come back, a promise to hear her answer.

Unexpected tears filled her eyes. His promise had so nearly been broken. How could she have then born the long years of her life, knowing that she had never spoken the words that mattered most, never told him she loved him when she had the chance? She bowed her head, and a tear splashed down onto the carven runes in her hand. "Kili," she whispered. "Meleth nin." Even as the thought of her near loss broke her heart, she breathed a laugh. _Silly,_ she admonished herself. _Don't grieve for a fate the gods never decreed. When you see him, you will tell him._

Tauriel wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and the runestone still held close in one hand, she reached for the food on the table.


	4. Chapter 4

"He's been asking about you ever since he's been well enough to sit up," Balin was telling Tauriel as he led her through the halls of the mountain. "Maybe now he'll finally get some rest."

She smiled slightly to herself. "Thank you for bringing me to see him. I, too, have been...anxious."

This portion of the fortress bustled with dwarves, Thorin's original company having been joined by Dain's army from the Iron Hills. She felt their eyes on her as she passed. They had heard what she had done for their new king, and their stares were not hostile, but rather wondering. She, too, gazed about herself in amazement. The halls and chambers of Erebor were truly overwhelming, even used as she was to the mountain fastness of the Greenwood. Chasms plunged beneath her, vaults soared above, and all echoed with their footsteps. The sound was slightly lonely yet, as if still carrying the memory of long, empty years. But she imagined that once the dwarves reestablished their lives here, those echoes would ring with life, comforting and welcome.

They were passing through domestic quarters now. The furnishings were musty with neglect, but already Tauriel could seen that things had begun to be tidied and lived in once more. She thought of her own woodland home, grown wild and overgrown under the shadow of Dol Guldur. The same work of tidying and renewal was to be done there, as well.

Balin led her to a closed door and paused, turning to her. "Not all of us may tell you so, but we all thank you for what you've done for the lad."

Tauriel bowed. "It has been my honor."

Balin opened the door on a richly furnished bedchamber. A dwarf sat in a chair with his back to them, reading aloud from a book. Kili sat up, listening, in a bed that seemed somewhat too small for him and all the pillows that had been propped behind him. His face brightened as he saw her enter, and the other dwarf stopped reading to glance behind him. When he saw who was there, he snapped his book shut and hurried to his feet.

"Ori, at your service, Mistress Tauriel," he stammered, bowing low.

"Well met," she answered, offering a bow of her own.

"If you'll excuse me, miss, I think Dori needed me for something." He set the book aside and shuffled out of the room, with one last embarrassed glance at her face as he passed her.

She stifled a smile as she watched him leave. Just what were they all saying about her?

"Tauriel." The sound of Kili's voice recalled her attention to him. He was smiling gently at her, seemingly a little embarrassed himself. As she crossed the room to him, Balin said from behind her, "I'll leave you to yourselves. If you need me, I'll be out in the receiving room." The door closed with a soft click.

"Tauriel," he said again as she gazed down at him. "Do you mind if I keep saying your name? It's almost as beautiful as you are." He grinned at his own foolishness.

"Kili, you may say whatever you like." She sank to sit at the edge of the bed, facing him.

His eyebrows rose in a mischievous expression. "Anything?"

She nodded. "Yes, but first—" She caught his right hand in her own. With her other hand, she withdrew the runestone from a pocket. "I want to keep our promise." She set the stone in his fingers and curled them around it. "_Amralimë," _she said, looking him in the eyes. "_Meleth nin_. I love you." She leaned forward and kissed him.

When she sat back, he was grinning helplessly at her. She found that she smiled, as well. This moment of love acknowledged and returned was an unexpected joy, one she had not known before.

"They said," he told her softly, "that you gave the fire of your spirit to me, that you nearly died." His hands moved over hers. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, with all my heart." She reached out and brushed his face with her fingertips. "Watching you die, knowing that I loved you and that you would never know, was one of the most horrible things I've ever felt. I was ready to give anything to keep you with me."

He flushed, abashed. "But I did know," he corrected her. "When you found me on Ravenhill, I knew."

Under the sweetness and trust of his gaze, Tauriel felt as if something were melting inside her. It was an unaccustomed sensation, but not an unpleasant one. "Tell me," she said cautiously after a few moments. "When you were fading, do you remember...? I dreamed you took my hand."

His expression grew thoughtful. "Yes," he said slowly. "I remember now. I dreamed that you drew me to a world of golden light. I thought dying would not be bad if you were there to hold my hand."

She laughed, a merry sound full of the triumph of joy over sorrow. "I would rather hold it now, with you alive and here with me." She felt her cheeks warm as she spoke; she was unused to speaking her feelings so freely, and new ones, at that.

Kili nodded contentedly and tightened his fingers on hers.

"How do you feel today?" she asked after a few moments.

He groaned softly. "As if cave trolls have been using me as a welcome mat. Not that cave trolls _have_ welcome mats. They've terrible manners, worse than dwarves,' even." He coughed, overtaken by his enthusiasm, and then lay back, breathing deeply with a pained look on his face.

Tauriel could see the bandages wound about his chest beneath the robe he wore loosely over his shoulders. The bandages were clean; he was no longer bleeding.

"They said my ribs are broken and one went through my lung." Kili stopped, seeing her face blanche. "Oin's been trying to get me to drink his special 'healing tea.'" He gestured to a mug on the bedside table. "But it tastes horrid. He won't explain to me how dirty socks have healing properties."

Tauriel lifted the nearly full mug of lukewarm tea and tasted it cautiously. It had a pungent, herbal tang to it that she did not recognize, but she thought she tasted herbs that her own people valued for their healing powers. Kili seemed pleased to catch her biting back a grimace. "Feverbane is very good for convalescents," she pronounced authoritatively and handed the mug to him.

He took it from her and sipped resignedly at it. "As long as you're sure it's not socks."

Tauriel tried not to laugh as he stared at her over the rim of the mug.

"What have you been reading?" she asked, reaching for the book Ori had left on the chair. It proved to be a history of the elven kingdoms of Eregion, written in the common tongue.

"I don't really know much about the elves," he explained as she turned the pages. "Ori found that in the library for me. But maybe you could tell me yourself."

Tauriel smiled and looked back up at him. "I would enjoy that very much."

"Well, Oin says I'm not going anywhere till my breathing gets stronger, so you might say I'm a captive audience, once again." He eyed her cheekily, before taking another sip of tea.

Tauriel regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "I seem to recall you did your best to draw _my_ interest in the King's prison."

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" he replied earnestly. "You'd already captured me with your elvish grace."

Kili didn't think he could ever tire of the sound of her clear, warm laugh. "Fair enough," she said.

"So I knew I'd have to win you on natural clumsiness alone," he finished.

"I think you're quite charming. And even eloquent," she assured him.

He gave her a crooked smile.

"You're tired," she observed. "I should let you rest."

Kili nodded. "Wait," he directed, as she shifted to rise. He swallowed the rest of the tea, made a bitter face, and handed her the mug.

As she took it from him, she added, "I heard about your brother and your uncle. Kili, I am sorry."

"Thank you," he said softly.

Impulsively, she leaned in and kissed his brow. "That's all the elvish healing I have for you today," she teased as she stood.

"It's enough."

Tauriel replaced the mug on the beside table and, with her heart lighter than it had been for many a day, crossed the room and closed the door softly behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

Tauriel visited him the next day and all the days after that. Sometimes she told him elven lore or listened to Kili's tales of growing up in the Blue Mountains. From the way that Fili featured prominently in his stories, she guessed that Kili must feel his brother's loss dearly, though he rarely said so outright. At other times, they discussed the progress being made to restore Erebor to its former glory. Yet the one thing Kili did not speak of was his new position as Thorin's heir. Tauriel wondered if he was afraid.

While there were some who still doubted that their prince should make such close alliance with an elf, Tauriel discovered that most of the dwarves in fact saw it as a propitious sign that their young leader had won the devotion of even one of their old enemies. For such opinion, she was almost more grateful for his sake than for her own.

Thranduil's folk had already returned to the Greenwood. She had remained, knowing that Kili wanted her there, and she had been given a room in the royal quarters, where two dwarf-sized beds pushed together served nearly as well as her own mattress at home.

Tauriel felt uncertain, for the first time in her life, of where her own place was. She had declared her love for this dwarf, and she knew she wanted to stay beside him. Yet she had never before given any thought to leaving her native forest. The idea took some getting used to. And eventually, she would have to make some account of herself to her kin. What would they say?

When Kili was well enough, Tauriel began accompanying him to supper in one of the great dining halls. She enjoyed watching him among his kin. They were a merry people, she found, optimistic about a homeland reclaimed and a new prince upon the throne. Some nights, after empty plates and platters had been cleared, there was music and singing. Tauriel found she quite liked dwarf music. It was perhaps a little less elaborately structured than elf music, but no less enlivening for all that. Once Kili had even been prevailed upon to play a fiddle which someone produced. Tauriel, who had not known he played any instrument, had listened with delight. Kili, too, clearly enjoyed his appreciative audience. "That was a jig," he told her as he handed the fiddle back to its owner. "When my ribs are better, I'll teach you the dance that goes with it."

Tauriel was surprised by how quickly restorations were coming. The living quarters which had seemed shabbily luxurious on her first visit now felt warm, cozy even. She herself had helped with cleaning, restoring, and reorganizing living quarters and reception halls, archives and storage rooms. The only task the dwarves did not permit her to join was the counting and cataloguing of the treasure hoard. She did not blame them, and truthfully, she wished no part in dealing with the gold that had cost many lives, dwarvish, elvish, and human alike.

Kili had been given more administrative duties, both to spare his injuries and to prepare him for his role as king. Some days, Tauriel saw him often, other days rarely or not at all. But they always came together with their friends—yes, the dwarves were becoming _her_ friends, as well—for the evening meal in the cheerful, fire-lit hall.

The rampart entrance and bridge to the mountain had been rebuilt and the masons' efforts were now shifted to repairing the interior damage wrought by the dragon. The forges and workshops were being rebuilt, and there was talk of recommencing the smith-work and relighting the forges (which had exhausted their fuel stores once more) as part of the coronation of the king. This ceremony was to take place in the spring, in April, to commemorate the day Thorin and Company had set out from the house of Mr. Baggins, burglar.


	6. Chapter 6

Tauriel and Kili often walked together in the evenings, after their tasks were done for the day. On this particular night in late January, the two paced the new ramparts at the mountain gate. The watchmen had fallen back to give them privacy—that was one of the perks of being a prince, Kili decided.

The air was chill, but there was no wind and the sky was clear. Both wore cloaks trimmed with fur. Tauriel's had been repurposed from a damaged tapestry, since none of the dwarvish cloaks had been long enough for her. Kili thought the traditional dwarvish patterns on the cloth contrasted and accentuated her exotic elven beauty. He liked seeing her in them, liked the idea of her being part of his world.

Tauriel was telling Kili of how earlier that day, she and Dori had found one of the old wine cellars with nearly all its inventory intact. They had spent the day cataloguing the contents and estimating how much was still drinkable. There were some brandies that ought to have aged quite nicely. The two of them had gotten into a good-natured argument regarding whether elves or dwarves had better taste in spirits.

"I promised to bring him a cask of spiced mead from the King's cellars the next time I am in the Greenwood," Tauriel finished.

"And when is the next time you'll be home?" Kili asked after a moment.

"It has been on my mind to return soon," she confessed. "There are things I wish to settle there. I want to see how the work of reclaiming the wood has come. I should tell my King why he will be losing his lieutenant and my friends why they must share me with your mountain. And, truth be told, I would like to freshen my wardrobe somewhat."

She had worn only her green robes since she had stayed in Erebor. Kili tried to imagine what other sorts of things must be in her closet at home. He wasn't sure what elves found fashionable, but he was sure she must look lovely in anything.

"I understand," he said. "You've a home and kin that you must be missing. I've felt a bit selfish, lately, keeping you here. But I thank you." He reached out and caught her hand. "Just...promise you'll come back in time for my coronation?" Tauriel could tell from his tone how much this request meant to him.

"Of course!" She paused mid stride and turned to look at him. "I would not miss it, _meleth nin_."

Kili smiled widely at her. "I want all of my friends to be there." His expression grew more thoughtful. "I think I've been getting used to the idea of being a king. I was terrified at first. Everyone always expected Fili to be king someday. They didn't really worry much about me. Mahal's forge, _I_ never worried much about me."

Tauriel smiled at that.

"Oi, I know I'm reckless," he admitted. "But Fili and Thorin were always there to get me out of a scrape. I never expected to be left on my own, to be _king_ on my own."

"But you're not alone," Tauriel reminded him. "You have all your friends to help you."

"I know." He nodded. "That's why I want you all there."

"We will be," she said, and squeezed his hand.

"You know, this hasn't turned out to be exactly the adventure I thought I was setting out on." His eyes were solemn and a little sad.

"It's not the adventure I expected, either," Tauriel told him honestly. "But it's a good one, is it not?"

He regarded her for a few moments before answering. "Aye, it is." The edge of his mouth quirked up in a smile. "I suppose we didn't lose anything more than we'd been willing to give. And some of us found a bit more, perhaps, than we hoped."

Kili turned to continue along the wall and drew her after him. The moon was a few days off from the full, and the stone walls shone with silver-blue light. At the end of the wall, a flight of stairs led up to a short guard tower, empty now out of courtesy. The two climbed the tower and crossed to the parapet to look out at the valley below.

Tauriel was gazing up at the stars, as she always did when they came here. She seemed to fill herself with their light, as if she lived by it as much as by food or drink. Perhaps she did.

Kili watched her watch the heavens. "You know," he said momentarily, "I can understand why you love it, the silver light of the moon and the stars. It suits you. It brings out the creamy color of your skin, the fire in your hair, the light in your eyes..." Tauriel looked back down at him. She was truly glowing, he thought. "We dwarves perhaps look better by lamplight or the light of our forges. But the starlight, it's for you," he breathed.

"The elves awakened to the light of the stars," she told him. "And for those of us who never journeyed to the west, it is the nearest we shall come to the blessed light of Valinor."

"Even if gazing on you is the closest I come to that sacred light, I would call myself truly blessed," Kili answered solemnly.

"Did you know," Tauriel said, "that your maker Mahal, whom we call Óli, is also a great friend of the elves? He loved the Noldor, and taught their greatest smith, who went on to create the Silmarils, chiefest of all the gems. And while there may be little love between your people and mine, Óli himself is the consort of Ivann, creatress of the trees and all living things, and much beloved by the sylvan elves." She smiled warmly. "So, you see, perhaps there is not so much distance between us as some may think."

"Except in height," Kili noted, his tone gently self mocking. He didn't mind that she stood above him; he wouldn't have changed her in the slightest respect. But he had never so wanted to kiss her, and it was nearly impossible to manage gracefully when his head didn't even reach her shoulder.

Tauriel laughed. "Easily enough remedied," she said, and catching his hand, drew him back to the stairs down from the watchtower. She descended the first few steps and turned round to face him. Her face was now level with his.

He smiled, both pleased and embarrassed to have achieved his wish. Tauriel regarded him expectantly. Kili slid his fingers through her beautiful hair that shone like burnished copper. The curve of her neck fit perfectly into his hand. As he drew her to him, her leaf-green eyes held his, and he found he had to close his own before his lips met hers—there was so much starlight, or love or joy, in her eyes that he felt it would spill over into him, filling him till he could contain no more and he burst.

He kissed her, more fully than he had yet dared, and she answered him, leaning into him in a way that made him forget the physical inequality between them. She was simply a woman who fit into his arms and whom he wanted to hold.

He remained with his arms around her, even after the kiss had ended. She had nestled her face into the hollow of his neck, and he found his lips just brushed her earlobe. He loosed one arm from her shoulders and lightly traced a finger up the sweeping edge of her ear. She giggled against him. "Sorry, I've sort of always wanted to do that," he admitted, embarrassed. He could feel his cheeks warm. "It's all right." Her voice was muffled. "Even we are not unmoved by a fine pair of ears." He sighed contentedly. She smelled nice, like trees and rain-washed soil and maybe a little of apple blossoms.

Tauriel shifted in his arms and lifted her head at last. "I suppose we should go back, or your guards will accuse me of practicing elvish sorcery on you." She giggled as she met his face. "Your hair!" She reached out and pulled free the already loosened clasp that had held his hair back. "Turn around," she instructed. He obeyed, and as she was tucking his hair back into place, she continued, "Among the elves, fine hair is esteemed a great beauty. Yours would be much admired."

He chuckled. "I'm glad to hear there is something about me for you to find attractive."

"Kili!" she scolded him. "I'll have you know that it is some time since I have considered you quite handsome. Not as a dwarf, but for yourself."

"But you didn't think I was at first!" he countered triumphantly.

"Well, no," she admitted, sounding embarrassed herself. "But I did find you interesting." She fastened the clasp and tugged at his hair one last time. "There, no evidence of elvish sorcery to be seen."

"Oh, but they'll know," Kili protested as he follow Tauriel down the stairs. "I never spend that much time on it myself. It'll look far too nice."

Tauriel smirked at him over her shoulder. "I'm not falling for that, master dwarf."

Kili shrugged. "Fine. Just, wait—" And he caught her about the shoulders before she could step off the last stair and into the sight of the waiting watch. He placed a kiss behind her ear and whispered, "Thank you. For giving me my life and your love."

Tauriel took his hand and wound her fingers through his. As the two of them came in from the ramparts, she realized that she was no longer troubled at the thought of finding her place in the unexpected new world she had become part of. She did not know what it would be like to stay here, to love this dwarf, just as Kili did not know what it would be like to rule as king. But not knowing was no reason to turn back. This was their adventure, and she would find out where it led with him.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

_Óli_ is the Sindarin name for Aulë. And Mahal is his name in Khuzdul. _Ivann_ is (as far as can be guessed from limited sources) the Sindarin name of Yavanna.

This is as far as I have planned to take this fic. I've written it because, well, I was a sad shipper fangirl who wanted a chance for these two to be alive and happy. And while I feel on pretty good terms with the Muse of Romantic Banter and Cute Relationships, the Muse of Epic Storylines with Long Cast Lists has always kind of passed me by. I welcome you to dream your own future adventures for these two. Personally, I imagine Tauriel probably becomes something of an ambassador between Erebor and the Greenwood. The Lonely Mountain gets an Elf Queen, and Durin's line is infused with a little Elvish blood. Hey, if you're gonna AU, aim high. :D

I love this 'ship mainly because I've adored Tauriel since I heard we were finally getting a kick-butt girl wood elf (and the fact that she's a redhead didn't hurt, either). And, well, as goofy and revisionist as it is for an elf/dwarf romance in Tolkien, I couldn't even blame her for falling for Kili, because let's face it, Aidan Turner is pretty darn irresistible, even with a serious height deficit.

Thank you so much for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Coming home felt, well, different than Tauriel had expected. It wasn't simply that the wood felt lighter, freer, more open than it had ever been within her memory. Even under the leafless, snow-laden branches of winter, the forest already felt more alive than it had when she had walked out from under those same trees mere months ago, following the urge of duty—as well as a somewhat less definable prompting—towards the dwarves who had been under their watch, and whose safety she still felt was her concern.

Yes, her forest had changed. But so had she. She had seen the world outside her woodland home, met some of the people in it. She was sure, now, of what she had begun to feel back then: that she could not live in isolation, as if their lives had nothing to do with hers. Tauriel had found that the happenings out in the world were very much much concerned with the things even she, a wood elf, cared for. Or perhaps she had grown to care for things beyond what she had known before. Maybe it was the same thing.

She was greeted affectionately by the forest sentries, most of whom were her friends. There was some good-natured ribbing about her extended stay in Erebor, yet no one challenged her friendship with their erstwhile captives and nearly enemies. She supposed she had Thranduil's pardon to thank for that. Her defiance of him had been quite public, and his kindness to her after the battle had been equally so, when he had granted her his quarters as she recovered from her salvation of Kili, a sacrifice that had proved nearly fatal to herself.

Tauriel was grateful that her friends in the guard had not made an issue of her new loyalties, for she feared her parents would not let it go so easily. In truth, she wasn't sure how they would respond. Her mother, at least, had always hoped that Tauriel's close friendship with the prince would come to something. Tauriel had never had the heart to tell her that the King would hardly approve of his son blending sylvan blood to a lineage which traced back to the elves who had returned from the Blessed Lands beyond the sea. She had never cared for Legolas in that way, anyhow, though sometimes she had allowed herself to think of him as the brother she had always wanted. As for her father, he remembered an old quarrel with dwarves over payment and precious stones, and had always spoken of them as a stubborn, distasteful race motivated more by greed than by honor. His opinion had never troubled her overmuch; she had always considered it more as an incidental grudge rather than a universal fact. But she did not relish the prospect of hearing him speak ill of her new companions and friends, who had proven themselves loyal and true to one another, as well as to herself. She would not allow herself to imagine what he might say in objection to the one she loved.

In truth, her initial meeting with her parents had not proved the confrontation she had feared. Her mother had held her close, breathing her thanks to the Valar. "When we first heard how many had fallen, we feared we'd lost you," she said, releasing Tauriel at last. "Later, we learned how right we nearly were, though not for the reason we had guessed." She smoothed her daughter's hair, regarding her with thoughtful, troubled eyes. "So it is true," she said, as if she read something in her daughter's face. "It's too late, and you have already made your choice." And then she had wept softly against Tauriel's shoulder and said no more.

To her relief, her father had not questioned her, but merely welcomed her home and kissed her hair, as he always did. Yet he, too, had fixed her with such a wondering gaze that Tauriel wished she knew what it was he saw. Tauriel knew she must answer them regarding her love for Kili soon enough, yet in the meantime, she had still other meetings to worry about.

* * *

><p>On the morning after her return, she presented herself to her King. She had not faced him since he had pronounced her banishment, and while he had shown her kindness in the aftermath of the battle, she could not guess what his feelings regarding her would be, now that he had had time to consider her actions.<p>

Standing before his chamber door, she found her palms sweating. She brushed them against her skirts, settled her shoulders with a deep breath, and knocked.

"You may enter," the King's dispassionate voice called.

She drew open the door and stepped in to the room where she had given reports and received her orders so many times before.

"Your majesty." She curtseyed, unsure, for the first time in ages, of how to address her superior.

"Tauriel," Thranduil spoke as she rose, "It is good to have you back."

She smiled, relaxing slightly. "It is good to be back," she said.

"And yet," he continued, a cryptic smile of his own playing over his lips, "You will not stay."

"My lord," Tauriel stammered. "I appreciate your kindness to me, and I would not disobey you, but I have found new allegiances that bind me as much as my love for the Greenwood."

"It did not trouble you to disobey me before," he noted, almost amused.

Tauriel's color deepened. "Forgive me," she said.

"Tauriel," he addressed her, his impassive expression softening somewhat, "You have long been one of my most trusted lieutenants, able to see and consider what others would not. It occurs to me that no less may be true now." He sighed, and Tauriel could see the weight of many cares in his face then. "Much elven blood was spilt that day. I would not see such loss again. And I would not command my people against their hearts."

Tauriel stared at him, unable to find anything to say.

"I must confess, I cannot imagine what you see in a dwarf," he continued, reassuming his usual haughty air, an attitude with which Tauriel was both familiar and comfortable. "But I suppose that is hardly my concern. It _is_ my concern, however, that we establish more . . . favorable relations with Erebor. You told me once, I recall, that we ought to take more interest in the world outside our borders. I find that such interest ought to extend to our neighbors, at least. And you are in an ideal position to promote such relations."

"You would make me your envoy?" she queried, surprised.

Thranduil's mouth lifted in a knowing half-smile. "I suspect you would act as one, whether I empowered you or not. Let us at least legitimize the role."

"I am honored. And indeed," she added with a soft laugh, "I seem to have stepped into that part already. Please allow me to present you a gift from the Prince of Durin's house. He offers it as a token of friendship and appreciation for the people of the Greenwood and their King."

She produced a small, intricately decorated casket and presented it to the king.

He took it wordlessly and opened it. Inside were five large, finely cut emeralds of surpassing brilliancy and hue. Kili had selected them without her assistance, and she had immediately approved his choice.

"The Prince has discerning taste," Thranduil commented drily. "I foresee we shall understand one another well enough."

Tauriel made no effort to hide her smile as she curtseyed once more. "Thank you," she said warmly.

"And Tauriel," the King added, "I expect you to resume your duties as lieutenant until you return to Erebor."

"Yes, my lord," she answered happily.

"You are dismissed."

Tauriel nodded respectfully, and exited the room, feeling giddy at finding such unexpected favor.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

Well, I meant to end the story at the last chapter, but it's become something of a bug in my imagination, and it has kept going. I guess I'll see where it goes!

I've kept the name of Greenwood for Mirkwood, since I imagine that Mirkwood or Taur e-Ndeadelos (Forest of Great Fear) are probably names given by outsiders, rather than what the elves call their home, even a home fallen into darker days! I can see the Mirkwood elves stubbornly insisting upon the name that reflects the forest's former majesty, even now that it isn't very accurate. And Kili, wishing to be diplomatic, isn't likely to address Thranduil as "King of that horrible scary forest," either, despite having had up-close and personal experience with just how horrible and scary it can be. Hence, he, too, says Greenwood here, through Tauriel.

Those are the emeralds of Girion, mentioned in chapter 18 of _The Hobbit _as the gift of Dain to the Elvenking. They're not mentioned in the films, so I thought I'd throw them in here instead.


	8. Chapter 8

She met Legolas in the mess hall later that day. As the friends he had been seated with left, their meal over, she joined him with a decanter of wine. He regarded her carefully as she seated herself opposite him. "Tauriel! You look well," he said, and she thought he sounded almost self-conscious.

"I saw your glass is empty," she teased, hoping to reestablish their accustomed ease together.

"Indeed," he affirmed, offering it to her to refill. "I missed you."

She knew he spoke as her friend, for all that he had wished for more from her. Tauriel smiled. "As did I."

"Patrols are certainly less...exciting without you there to drag us into the thick of things," he noted teasingly.

"I do not!" she protested, knowing it was partly true.

Legolas silently regarded her, one perfect brow barely arched.

"Anyway, I'll be happy to be out with you all, running down squirrels and spiders again," she returned, and he smiled at their old joke.

"I think the squirrels have missed you. They've been almost polite."

"I told you you'd be able to teach them some manners if you kept at it," Tauriel returned.

"Tell me, how do dwarves compare with squirrels?" he asked, in the easy, light manner she knew.

"Less trouble and more fur."

Legolas grinned and seemed to relax somewhat, evidently relieved she could return the jest. "But truly, were you happy there, in Erebor? I confess, I cannot imagine how you can stand it to be the lone elf in a mountain full of dwarves." He watched her curiously.

"I was. Dwarves can be quite gracious, when their life and honor, to say nothing of their dignity, are unchallenged," she noted with ironic humor. "I was nearly always met with respect, even from those who misliked me. They are an honorable folk and will not forget what I have done."

"I'm glad," he said. She thought he wanted to say more, but suddenly there was that unspoken thing between them again, the choice she had made that could not be taken back. "It will be good to have you at my back once more," he said finally. Legolas clasped her arm, then rose. "I'll see you on patrol tomorrow," he said over his shoulder, and left her.

Tauriel sighed and poured herself the last glass from the decanter. She drank it slowly, wishing her relationship to Legolas could remain what it had been before, something fond and close and with no more complexity beyond that which existed between two long-time friends. But she knew it was foolish to imagine things would never change, especially now that she had made choices that would take her away from her home. Could she even save his friendship, when she had answered his love by choosing another? She propped her face in her hands, and a tear splashed down on the oaken tabletop. Before she could indulge her melancholy, a familiar voice hailed her.

"Tauriel!" She glanced up to see a young elf woman with dark braids and a merry smile approaching her. Silwen had been her closest friend since childhood.

"I was on my way out to patrol last night when I heard you had returned. If our party hadn't already been undermanned, I would have come see you then!"

Tauriel rose to return her friend's embrace.

"What's wrong?" Silwen asked, seeing her tears.

Tauriel quickly brushed her cheeks with her sleeve, unsure of how to answer.

"It's the Prince, I suppose," her friend supplied. "He's been brooding since he came back." Tauriel simply nodded.

"I just got off duty; come home with me and you can tell me all you want. Oh, Taur, I've missed you! I'm so glad you're back." Silwen hugged her again.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

I'm diverging a bit from movie canon by having Legolas stay in Mirkwood (for now) since I think it makes better sense with his eventual arrival in Rivendell, particularly in the book. Plus, I guess I kind of just like keeping him around. But hey, I guess now that I'm in AU Land, I can play with a few more details, right? I'm trying for a headcanon somewhere between the book and movie. With the obvious exception of completely unapologetic Kiliel, of course!

Also, I really like the idea of a platonic relationship between Legolas and Tauriel, and was kind of disappointed that the films turned it into a love triangle situation. I'm trying to save that notion as much as I can. (It's funny: as someone who was a die-hard Legolas fangirl ten years ago, I almost can't believe I'm writing him into the wrong end of a love triangle this time around.)

And just a technical note on the text: I updated a few details in the previous chapter regarding Tauriel's meeting with her parents. It's minor, but will be relevant to the next chapter. I'm still sorting the likely consequences of elf/dwarf romances here, and trying to make it believable without veering too far into Angstville.


	9. Chapter 9

Silwen shook out the dark waves of her hair and, accepting a glass of light, golden wine from Tauriel, settled into the cushioned seat beside her friend.

"So," Silwen prompted once she had tasted her wine, "You chased some dwarves and were banished; you outlived dragon's fire; fought in a war; you fell in love and saved one prince's life, while the other returned without you. Perhaps you had better start at the beginning!"

Tauriel nodded. "What exactly _have_ you heard?"

"Everyone knew you left the Greenwood with Legolas, despite the King's order to close the borders. We guessed you were concerned over the latest orc incursion; it had been no secret that you pushed for expanded patrols in those last few months.

"The rest was just gossip when the army returned from Erebor. Your banishment was common knowledge, of course, as was the King's favor to you after the battle. But some heard you had been alone in Laketown when it was burned by Smaug. And people even said you'd been found on the battlefield, nearly dead in the arms of the dwarf prince, though the ones who told me _that_ seemed to believe it less than the dragon story."

Tauriel smiled self-consciously, yet said nothing despite her friend's curious glance, so Silwen continued.

"I finally got Legolas to tell me that you had both followed the dwarves to Laketown and that he had left you behind to heal one who had been injured. He said you had found him the next day, and the two of you had ridden to Dol Guldur, only to return to Erebor with an orc army on your heels. And he confirmed you had followed the dwarf prince into battle and that you'd ransomed his life with your own when he fell." She looked knowingly at Tauriel and added, "Legolas never, in fact, said you loved the dwarf, but I thought that was clear enough from the tale. He was the one in Laketown...?" Silwen finished expectantly.

"Yes." Tauriel sipped the wine, her expression curious. "Legolas didn't tell you it was Kili that I healed? I suppose he couldn't, when I chose Kili over him."

Her friend nodded. "I wondered if he loved you."

"Oh, Silwen, Legolas made it quite clear when he came after me. And I couldn't say anything, because I needed him—wanted him—at my side. And because I couldn't tell him I was falling in love with a dwarf."

"Legolas has long been your friend; I know he would not grudge you the support that you needed."

"No," Tauriel agreed, "I don't believe he would. All the same, I fear I've hurt him. And I wish I had not." She sighed. "He is the reason I was upset earlier."

Silwen laid an arm across her friend's shoulders in a brief hug. "I know how close you two have been. I wondered what would happen if one of you fell in love."

Tauriel laughed in spite of herself. "I suppose you never thought to include a dwarf in your conjectures!"

"Indeed not!" Silwen grinned conspiratorially. "I'm sorry I was on border patrol when that all happened. I wish I had seen the dwarf who could steal your heart! I'm not sure how to imagine him." She tried to school the smile from her face, with limited success. "Forgive me, Taur, but the last dwarves I saw were old, quite fat, and had beards so long they wore them tucked up in their belts to keep from treading on them! I'm sure your Kili must be handsomer than that, but I confess I cannot imagine him any other way!" Silwen hid her face against her friend's shoulder, both amused and apologetic at once.

Tauriel laughed. "It's all right! I should have said much the same, had you asked me to tell you of dwarves not long ago. I can assure you that Kili is young, not at all fat, and as for the beard, he wears his trimmed quite short."

Silwen looked up at her. "Well, that's a relief. I was worried about you trying to kiss him through all that hair!"

"Sil!" Tauriel shoved her friend playfully. She was not offended; Silwen and she had teased each other for years over everything from the way they wore their hair to one another's skill on the archery range, and suitors were not exempt from their jests. Indeed, Tauriel was grateful that her friend's first concern over her love for Kili had apparently been that he make her happy. It was obvious that Silwen wanted to find what made him attractive to Tauriel so that she might see it too, and equally obvious that she was failing.

Tauriel continued, earnest now. "Kili must be nearly our age, according to the reckoning of his folk. He has brown eyes and very handsome dark hair. And he _is_ somewhat tall for a dwarf, though even so, his head doesn't clear my shoulder." She laughed at the comical expression on Silwen's face. "But his shoulders are broad and his hands strong, and promise I don't feel unequally matched when he puts his arms around me.

"He's bold and loyal, and teasing, and kind. He's also an archer, and he plays the fiddle quite merrily. And sometimes he talks like a poet."

Silwen laughed. "I thought you had decided against poets."

"Only the kind who write sonnets," Tauriel returned with a smirk. "Besides, you haven't heard what he said to me the first time we met. When I put him in his cell in the King's prison, he asked if I was going to search him, since there was no telling what he might have in his trousers!" She snorted.

Silwen stared at her, both delighted and aghast at once. "What did _you _say?"

"Oh, I told him I'd likely find nothing, and locked the door in his face," Tauriel recalled with amused satisfaction.

Silwen burst into laughter. "Of course!"

"I couldn't believe he was trying for my attention! I had slighted him earlier, you know. He had asked me for a weapon, when we fought off the spiders, and I had not bothered to make my refusal anything but insulting. But his clumsy flirtation was rather endearing, in a hopeless sort of way," Tauriel admitted. "I—" She flushed, embarrassed at the memory. "I even defended him to Legolas, who was clearly evincing his offense at the trousers remark."

"Oh?" Silwen prompted.

"I suggested I found Kili attractive, and I'm afraid I hit home!" She sighed. "Poor Legolas, I shouldn't vex him! But he does make it so easy, sometimes," she finished fondly.

"And _did _you? Find him attractive, that is?"

"I— Well. No. I supposed that, by the standards of his folk, he might be considered handsome, but not enough to turn my head.

"Still I _was_ curious. He wasn't what I expected from a dwarf, neither harsh nor ill-tempered. He seemed so young and full of wonder. I could see that to him, all of this was new, and I almost felt sorry that his first glimpse of the world should land him in a prison cell."

Silwen shook her head in mock disapproval. "Tauriel, you've gone soft if you're pitying the King's prisoners! Even the young, sweet ones."

"I know! It seemed harmless at the time; I merely thought I was lessening his hardship by being kind. I made a final pass through the prison at the end of my shift, and I stopped to speak with him. I thought he resented me at first, but then he relented and I knew his bravado was only an act." She smiled, remembering. "We talked for quite a long time. He told me of many things they'd seen on their journey so far, and some of the dangers they'd passed through. Nothing, however, that would have answered the King's curiosity, and therefore, nothing I felt bound to report!" she interjected in response to Silwen's marveling glance. "By the time I arrived at the feast, all of the best wine had been drunk. I hadn't even had time to change, and Legolas seemed strangely put-out, though he would not tell me why."

"I'm sorry, my dear, but it takes more than 'curious' to account for missing the Feast of Starlight," Silwen remarked pointedly.

"All right, by that time I was...charmed. Kili was friendly and artless, and his smile was so earnest and sweet."

Silwen sighed. "Oh, Tauriel, you were already falling for him!"

"I know. But you can hardly expect I could admit it to myself! He was my prisoner, and a dwarf, at that. I knew I couldn't fall in love with someone like him." She laughed at herself. "Couldn't fall in love with a perfectly charming young man, that is. I _was_ rather foolish for pretending I didn't see him that way. Amidst all the commotion the next morning when we discovered they had escaped, I even found I would be sorry if I never saw him again, to wish him well."

"I heard how you nearly stopped them at the last river gate," Silwen noted. "Didn't you see him then?"

"I saw him, but that was all. We were hard-pressed to defend ourselves and the dwarves, much less recapture them. Did you know, it was Kili who braved the wall, unarmed, to open the portcullis? He took an injury to do so. I've told no one, but," Tauriel added, her tone confessional, "I covered him as best I could. If I hadn't, the dwarves likely would not have escaped."

Silwen opened her mouth, but said nothing.

Tauriel continued, "But if they'd stayed trapped behind the gate, I don't doubt but that some would have been slain. They were, if you'll pardon the expression, fish in a barrel."

Silwen found words then. "Tauriel, don't imagine you betrayed your duty," she said warmly. "Your attention to the good of all those under your command is the reason I, and so many in the guard, admire and respect you. You've never needlessly sacrificed others simply to follow your orders."

Tauriel caught Silwen's hand. "Thank you," she said, and Silwen could see she had indeed been troubled by such thoughts. "Afterwards, we learned that orcs out of Moria had been following Thorin and his men for some time, but the King would do nothing. And... The orc we interrogated claimed they had fatally wounded Kili with a poisoned blade."

Silwen's eyes widened. "So you did go after him," she noted. "I wondered, once Legolas had confirmed the rumors, whether Kili had been the reason you left."

"I knew his companions would not have the skill to treat him!" Tauriel protested. "And I couldn't pretend his life didn't matter, that I didn't care."

"I was worried about you, when I returned from patrol and heard you'd disobeyed the King and left the forest, even though Legolas went with you."

"I know; it was reckless of me," Tauriel admitted. "I was angry that no one troubled over what became of them once the dwarves were out of our hands. Kili was not the only one in danger.

"I was justified in my fears: when we caught up with the remnant of Thorin's party in Laketown, we arrived barely behind the orcs that had been tracking them. We saved Kili and his friends, as well as the Laketown family who had been helping them. And Kili!" Tauriel's face betrayed the concern she had felt. "The poor boy was raving with fever by then; it was consuming the last of his strength! Some blessed soul had thought to fetch some athelas, and I used it to purify the wound.

"He recognized me then. He was delirious, but he still said enough for me to know what he felt. And the next morning, after we escaped Laketown, he asked me to come with him." She paused, her cheeks flushed slightly. "I pretended not to understand when he told me he loved me. That really was the worst of all my foolishness! Because I did know I could love him in return. I just couldn't see how it was supposed to work for us. I was afraid to admit to wanting something that could not be. But Kili was certain, I think, that all that mattered was wanting it. He put his hope in me, and I was drawn to him all the more for that. And in the end, he was right."

Silwen smiled gently. "I understand, now, why you love him. You never _have_ been content looking only to the past, as so many of us do. And Kili made you want to believe in something new."

Tauriel nodded. "What I feel when I'm with him, I've never known before. He makes me feel...alive," she finished with a smile, remembering what he had once said to her.

"You do look different, you know," Silwen said thoughtfully. "It's your eyes. Their light is bolder, somehow, as if..." She hesitated, uncertain.

"What?" Tauriel urged.

"It's as if it is no longer your spirit alone that shines in your eyes."

Tauriel flushed deeply. The change Silwen had described was one the elves saw in those who had wed. It was how their people knew, without asking, whether one was free or bound to another.

"I haven't— If that's what you mean," she stammered. Acts of passion were rare among their kind, and if Silwen thought she had yielded, her friend must think Tauriel had truly taken leave of her senses. Elves were by nature chaste.

"Forgive me! You misunderstand!" Silwen appeared equally alarmed and embarrassed.

Tauriel laughed, guessing her meaning at last. "No, we did not pledge ourselves in secret, if that's what you are thinking. When I saved him, I reached out to his spirit with mine and fed it with my fire, lest it die out completely and forsake his body. I suppose we share a true bond now."

"Tauriel," Silwen said. "If there was ever to be one of the Eldar to choose a dwarf, it would be you."

"Oh?"

"When you know what you have to do, you never stop to ask if it's impossible."

Her friend laughed. "Well, I suppose we are suited for each other. He, too, can be rather bold." Tauriel's smile turned rueful. "And now I understand what amazed my parents so when they saw me. My mother cried as if I were indeed dead on the battlefield as she had feared. I thought _Ada_ would make more trouble over it than she. He seemed more surprised than grieved, though."

Silwen paused thoughtfully over her wine before responding. "Taur, if it had been anyone but you, I would have said you were mad. Perhaps you are, a little bit, but in the good way that I've always liked about you," she interjected fondly. "I still cannot imagine wanting to settle your love on a mortal, a dwarf. But I trust you. Forgive the rest of us for not being able to understand."

Tauriel sighed. "There is nothing to forgive, my friend. And while the others may trouble me, they do not surprise me, nor can I blame them." She set her glass down and looped her arms round her friend's shoulders. "Thank you for believing me."

Silwen hugged her in return. "Don't thank me yet! I'm going to make you take me back to Erebor to meet him!"

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

Warrior elf girls are still girls! I wanted to offer Tauriel's account of why she'd drop everything to go chasing after some dwarves (and one in particular) that she'd just met. I've also written a sort of companion account of the relationship from Kili's perspective in my separate one-shot fic **Starlight Reflected.** (I'm sad that that fic is probably the only time I'll get to write Fili! For this story continuum, at least.)

_Ada_ - Sindarin diminutive for _father_; hence, "Dad."

In "The Laws and Customs of the Eldar" (found in _Morgoth's Ring_), Tolkien states that the elves can tell, just from the speech and appearance of another, whether he or she is married. I've never been quite sure how to imagine that must work, but Silwen's description of the change in Tauriel's appearance here is my best guess. The same chapter describes that marriage is, at heart, a bonding of souls. Tauriel's soul-bonding rescue of Kili is entirely my own invention, but I've based it as much as I can on what there is to know about elvish metaphysics. Yes, I'm obsessive.

I'm not going to use the term _morgul_ for the poisoned weapon used on Kili. The description of _morgul_ weapons in _Fellowship of the Ring_ makes it clear that such weapons are both very rare and also may only be wielded by someone of great power, like the Witch King. When I saw _Desolation of Smaug_, I couldn't believe they wanted us to buy that orc peons are just running around with _morgul_ blades. Furthermore, Frodo's _morgul_ wound wasn't healed as quickly and required more knowledge to treat than a wood elf would likely know (Aragorn, with all his ranger skill, couldn't cure it). Plus it plagued Frodo till the end of his life. Let's just say I'm not doing that to Kili. I still think it's completely believable to posit Kili was wounded by a weapon bearing some kind of cursed poison without making it a _morgul_ blade. Okay, end minor lore rant. I know this fic is already waaay off Tolkien's original canon, but I still can't help doing my best to follow the rest of the rules that I'm not breaking!


	10. Chapter 10

Kili respected Dain. His manner could be brusque at times, but he was wise and well-liked by the dwarves of his clan. And Kili was finding he could rely on him for advice on overseeing the growing dwarf city in Erebor.

Yet Kili found he could not feel truly fond of his cousin for the simple fact that Dain firmly, if fairly tacitly thus far, opposed his relationship with Tauriel. It made sense that Dain should resent her for her allegiance to the Elvenking. Thorin's account of Mirkwood's betrayal in Erebor's hour of peril was well-known among his kin, and for many of those west of the Misty Mountains, the only tale they knew of the woodland elves. Kili had grown up hearing those same stories, and he knew he shouldn't blame Dain, or any of the others, for their distrust. But Tauriel had not been what he had expected—for one thing, she was far more pretty! But beneath her elven hauteur she had proved kind and sweet and maybe even a little vulnerable. She wasn't like the proud and stubborn Elvenking. Why couldn't Dain see that?

Kili had vainly hoped that Dain would forget the matter during Tauriel's absence. But really, was anyone likely to forget he waited for her, if for no other reason than that he spent many of his free evenings finding ways to improve her old rooms and make them more suitable for an elf?

Indeed, as spring drew on and Tauriel's promised return grew near, Kili could sense Dain was preparing to say something about the elf maid. Thus, he was not truly surprised, despite being caught somewhat off his guard, when Dain broached the topic one afternoon following a conference regarding the distribution of lodging and labor among the newest arrivals from the Iron Hills.

"Listen: I've avoided the subject long enough, hoping you'd come to it on your own, but the elf girl; it can't go on," Dain had begun sternly.

Kili shuffled the pages he had been glancing over and looked up to meet Dain's face. He wished Balin had not just left the room moments before. Likely, Dain had noticed his exit and seized the chance to corner his young cousin. All the answers Kili had rehearsed in his mind were suddenly gone, and he found himself stammering, "It's not—"

Dain cut him off. "If you were still only Dis's baby boy, no one might care. But you're to be king! And in barely more than a month!"

The reference to his youth touched a nerve. Kili knew that he had been dismissed by many as an unpromising prince and heir of Durin. His uncle and elder brother had filled the role so well that he had taken his position as third-in-line as freedom to be nonchalant, and yes, careless, about what might be expected of him. But still, it rankled when those who had overlooked him before refused to see him any other way, even now.

"I know I'm not my uncle!" Kili burst out, surprising himself a little by his own vehemence. "And I know I'm not my brother. Believe me, I wish they were both here!" He took a breath, and continued somewhat more calmly. "I know I'm not what anyone expected, but let me prove myself. I want to be a good king! I'll take your advice in anything else, and gladly, but this is the one thing I'm sure of: I love Tauriel, and I want her with me."

Kili eyed his cousin steadily, knowing he could not back down if he was to carry his point.

Dain cleared his throat, and Kili wondered momentarily if Dain was finding this conversation as awkward as he. "If you want to be a good king, you have to play the part, give them something to respect," Dain observed.

"I couldn't respect a king who lacked the will to act on what he knew was true," Kili said softly.

Dain's face eased somewhat, and he spoke more gently than he had before. "Lad, I'm trying to help you."

"I know," Kili acknowledged. He sighed and dropped the pages to ruffle his fingers through his hair. "I never thought I'd be king," he admitted. "Thorin would be—he was born for it, you know?—and then my brother, who'd have a family by then. I never imagined myself here! I know I won't do this the way they would have, but I have to follow what's been given to me." He allowed himself a smile then, as he added, "When I set out, I didn't expect to meet Tauriel, either. But I can't deny the way I feel for her, any more than I can undo dragon's fire."

Dain smiled unexpectedly. "You _are_ like your uncle," he said.

Kili looked up, surprised.

"You're just as stubborn, when it comes to what you believe."

Kili was unsure if that was exactly a compliment. Still, he was pleased. He, like his brother, had always considered Thorin to be the measure of the man he hoped to become.

Dain continued, stern once more, "If you would have my counsel, an elf is no fitting match for one of Durin's sons. Would you divert the eldest bloodline and miss the chance for Durin the Deathless to return again?"

Kili sighed. "How is that any different than if I didn't wed? Most don't, anyway," he said pointedly. It was true; dwarf women were few, and men married less often than they did not.

"If she were to give you sons, they would still be your heirs. None would bar them the throne for mixed blood."

"Then there isn't a problem." The words came out sounding more petulant that Kili had intended.

"That _is_ the problem," Dain returned, just as stubbornly. "You would supplant the highest of the Dwarven royal lines, and leave us no choice but to honor it."

Kili passed a hand over his face. "So instead, I'm supposed to what?" he said unhappily. "Pass the throne on to the next in line? Or refuse to honor my love for Tauriel?" He knew Dain followed him in succession. Was that what this was about? Did Dain really think he'd make such a poor king?

Dain's expression softened, as if he guessed his younger cousin's thought. "Nay, lad, the crown is yours, and I won't take it from you. But you must see how much more reasonable it would be for you to choose a wife among your own folk. Choosing an elf only makes trouble for you."

How was he supposed to say he was fairly certain he didn't want anyone, if she was not Tauriel? Kili wondered.

Dain continued gently, "Would she even marry you? I'm not saying she doesn't love you, but her kind live forever. It may be better for you both to end things here."

"I haven't asked if she'll marry me," Kili began, impressed by how calm he sounded, when he felt anything but. "Yet I'm sure she doesn't mean to leave me. Elves are like us; they choose each other for life, and they don't love a second time. And I think... I think there may be no going back for us, after what she did to save me. You don't have to understand, but I'm asking you to trust me. I'm not choosing this on a whim."

Dain considered Kili intently for a few moments. "So be it, lad. I may not encourage you, but I'll not oppose you, if your mind is set. Do you wish to consider it and give me an answer in a day or two?"

Kili shook his head. "I'll be just as sure then."

"Aye, I thought as much," Dain noted drily. "We'll do our best to help you, lad, you know that, right? We do want to see you do well as king."

Kili nodded. "Thank you."

"Just," Dain added over his shoulder as he left the room. "You're on your own with your mum." Kili wasn't sure, but he thought his cousin was grinning.

* * *

><p>"You look like you need a drink," Dwalin had noted later that evening, shoving a foaming tankard towards Kili, who accepted it gratefully.<p>

"Were you arguing with my Da?" Dain's daughter, Frey, asked while Kili took a first long draught. She had arrived with the most recent party of folk from the Iron Hills, and had easily found friends with Kili and Ori and others their own age. She was a pretty lass, with her father's auburn hair, a lively face, and the full but well-proportioned figure that was considered ideal by dwarven standards. And she was merry and kind, with a spirit that matched her bright smile. His brother would have liked her, Kili thought.

"How'd you guess?" Kili asked, eyeing her quizzically.

"Oh, he's had that antsy feel that he gets when he's getting ready to tear someone a new one. You look surprisingly intact."

Kili shrugged. "It wasn't as bad as I expected, really. I mean, I think I won. Sort of."

"That's m' lad," Dwalin pronounced, accompanying the words with a clap to the back that nearly had Kili choking on his ale. "Don't let the old boy push you around. It's not good for 'im. Besides, he'll like you better for standin' up to 'im."

Frey, too, regarded Kili with respect. "I promise he's all soft inside, when you get to know him, but Da can be, well, downright scary at first." She paused, then ventured, "Was it about the elf?"

Kili flushed. He didn't mind what people knew about him and Tauriel, but somehow it was embarrassing to have her ask him. He suspected Dain may have hoped Kili would take an interest in his daughter, though thankfully nothing had ever been said about the matter. Though perhaps that was not so surprising; dwarf women were as strong-willed as the men, and marriages tended to depend on the bride's choice, rather than any familial arrangement.

"Right," Kili said, covering his embarrassment with another pull at his mug.

"Sorry," Frey returned kindly. "It's not my business. I just can't help being curious, that's all." She shrugged. "I've never seen any lady elves before. I'd like to meet her."

"I'll tell ye," Dwalin interjected. "They're all willowy long limbs, starry eyes, and trailin' hair, which they use to trap unsuspectin' dwarf lads."

Frey giggled in spite of herself, and Kili shot Dwalin an imploring glance.

"Nah, his Tauriel is all right. The worst I can say of her is that she fell for this one right here, when she had twelve other fine examples to choose from," Dwalin thumped his young kinsman fondly on the shoulder, finished his own ale, and rose to leave.

"I think Dwalin would more likely frighten away any elves, ladies or otherwise," Frey decided, still laughing, after the older dwarf was gone.

Kili, who had recovered by now, nodded in agreement. "Well, you'll make the first dwarf maid Tauriel has met, so if you both don't embarrass yourselves, you should find each other quite interesting."

Frey smiled. "I hope so!"

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

My interpretation of Dain is based rather more on the brief mention of him in Appendix A as "a great and wise king" under whom Erebor prospered, than on Gandalf's comment in the third film that Dain is less reasonable than Thorin!


End file.
